Check Mark of Reality
by Grasping At Straws
Summary: It wasn't his fault. It wasn't HIS fault.


**Disclaimers:** Oh, the point where the fact that I don't own Smallville or any of it's characters is rubbed in to my face. Nope, don't own the characters. May I repeat, I do not own any of the Smallville characters or Smallville itself.. Psh.

**A/N**: Umm, read and review. Oh, for my story Of All Things to Come, I will update as soon as I can but I have a temporary writer's block for that right now. Sigh Sucks, it really does..

* * *

The sky darkened, rain poured, tears shed, and bodies littered the floor. There was nothing he could have done. Absolutely nothing to prevent what had been done. But then, he wasn't even going to announce himself innocent. It's thoughts like this that provoke such thoughts in his head; thoughts that raged, threatened, and did nothing more than set off his anger. As though that mattered. As though anything mattered anymore...

Friends...

What friends?

Who needs them?

I need them...

No, I don't...

"Why can't you just understand!"

"Because you won't let me!"

* * *

He vaguely remembered ever leaving the safety of his home. He could hardly remember the yells, the screams, the heart ache; all that was clear to him was the pain. The numbness that consumed the pain after several drinks. He could remember the white powder, the smiles, the club, and the dancing.

The cocaine...

The smiles...

The laughter...

The fun...

"What the hell happened!"

"I don't know! I just came through the back and saw this! You have to believe me!"

She never did. He never did. They would never. Too many judgements cast in gold. Too many thick headed fools; assumptions, judgements, doubts, and why in the Hell did he care? No one would believe him and everyone would doubt him. Maybe there, possibly, was someone out there who would see past the last name. The name that seemingly had a connotation term of his own self being. What foolish thoughts had bestowed upon him?

* * *

_Don't believe it... _

_Second chance... _

_Where do we go from here? _

_Never ending..._

_Endless questions..._

_Fill up your hearts in... _

Drained. Exhausted. Weak. Tired. Thoughtless. He leaned his head back against the wall closing his eyes tightly. Whispering to himself; murmuring to himself, calming himself, and explaining to himself in disbelief. The wall felt hard and cold against his pale bald head and briefly cooled his body temperature. This had not happened. This could not have happened. Sixteen year old Lex Luthor lifted his head from the wall and gazed out before him. Countless of bodies of teenagers laid motionless upon the concrete floor. Their stench filled the air within his confinement. He swallowed, hard. He needed to get out of there and quickly.

I can't believe this...

I don't think anyone can...

Christ, how could have been so ignorant?

Help me...

Someone...

Anyone?

* * *

Quickly, Lex scrambled onto his feet, gulped, stepped over the bodies and halted in the middle of the room. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. All he could see was this; this surreal image of his friends' body laying scattered in this room. Something was dropped and a sound echoed within the interior of the room.

"Luthor!"

He whipped his head around.

"Luthor!"

He turned the other direction.

"Luthor!"

The walls began to fill with his name. No, not his name, his father's name. Their judgement. Their beliefs. Their mockery. His torture; his nightmares and his fate.

"Luthor!"

Lex turned in circles watching as wall after wall, ceiling to floor filled with the name.

"LUTHOR!"

It was a deafening yell; echoing throughout the small inclosure. Lex stumbled backwards tripping over a seemingly solid object and fell hard upon his back against the concrete flooring.

"Uh," He growled as his head fell against the concrete. Turning his head to the side, his eyes met face to face with the lifeless form of his recent friend; Mike. Mike. Lifeless Mike. Empty Mike. Innocent trustworthy young boy who had died because of him. Because Lex was a Luthor. The name was like a diseased touched. Those who didn't know about it felt a naive safety and for those who did tried their best to avoid it.

Only, his eyes had opened and glared into his own blue irises. Mike blinked a few times, his mouth moved forming words; words he didn't catch at first.

"You," Mike stammered. Lex,wide-eyed, watched in horror. "You killed me, Lex."

Mike frowned briefly. He closed his eyes and he was, once again, lifeless. Lex licked his lips, looked up at the ceiling, and closed his own eyes.

"I can't believe this," the young sixteen year old whispered to himself. "Is any of it real?" Have I gone crazy? He asked himself.

* * *

"It's your fault!"

"Pardon? Elaborate."

"It's your fault that she's gone! It's your fault that she'll never be the same!"

"I think you're mistaken."

"How can you live with yourself?"

"I adapt."

"You're just like your father! You say you aren't. You deny that you are anything like him but then you turn around and you're exactly like him.."

* * *

"Ooh, it's real all right, Lex," something had declared in the brief silence. "Very real.."

_But everything looks perfect from far away_

Come down now

But we'll stay..

* * *

**A/N**: Ooh, too be continued. Honestly, I know where I'm going with this one. 


End file.
